


The Art of Acquiring Discount Coffee

by BlueBeanBlueBean9916



Series: Kiyoko's Corner [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Akaashi is a dreamboat/singer/bassist, Asshole punk/barista Kuroo, Bokuto has it bad, College AU, Drug Use, Implied Sexual Content, Kinda, Kuroo has nerdy tattoos, Lev is an over-excitable intern, M/M, Noya is a tiny energetic guitarist, Oikawa is a fussy games designer and Iwaizumi is his exasperated but loving PA, Smol college boys getting baked and pining, Sweet anxious student/intern Kenma, Underage Drinking, Yaku is a bitter waiter, cliche coffee shop flirting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-16
Updated: 2018-07-06
Packaged: 2019-01-18 08:22:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 18,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12384471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueBeanBlueBean9916/pseuds/BlueBeanBlueBean9916
Summary: Kenma is a tired college student and his coffee maker breaks. Kuroo is an asshole barista and the drummer in an up-and-coming punk band. Fate brings them together.





	1. Intro

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to yamamama for beta-ing! I couldn't have done it without you bby (♡°▽°♡) !!!!

Kenma is tired. Like, really fucking tired. 

It was about five in the morning when he’d passed out in the floor after finally grinding his Marowak up to level sixty. He had woken up to the alarm on his phone blaring at 7:30 because he has an essay due by 9 and he isn’t exactly an early riser. So, after a half hour of snoozing he pushes his cat off his chest and dismisses the alarm, ignoring any and all angry meowing in favor of healing his pokemon and saving his game. By 8:15 he’s finally pet Calcifer enough to pacify him (for the moment) and hauled his lazy ass off the floor. 

Kenma shuffles through his tiny apartment (narrowly avoiding smashing his face into the doorjamb because of a pile of malicious laundry, wow he should really work on that) and makes his way to the kitchen. He fills up Calcifer’s water bowl and starts in on making a pot of coffee. He sets the pot to brew and grabs a cup of applesauce on his way out, deciding to skim over his document (again) before submitting it. He plops down on the couch with his laptop and starts slurping the applesauce straight from the cup (life is short, who has time to wash spoons).

He’s about halfway through it when he hears an angry hissing sound coming from the kitchen. He skids into the room, figuring Calcifer is probably fighting with his food bowl again. But no. 

It’s his fucking coffee maker. And it just exploded black sludge all over his countertop. 

Kenma is tired. This is gonna be a long day.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys meet

So, Kenma’s coffee maker is one hundred percent broken. Excellent. 

After about twenty minutes of confused fiddling he has ascertained that 1) coffee makers and computers are not at all the same thing and can not be fixed in the same way and 2) hot black coffee sludge can and will burn you to death. He hurriedly submits his essay so he doesn’t have to add failing lit to the list of shitty things that have happened to him today and decides to look for coffee makers online. 

Only one problem. Kenma is pretty broke. The cheapest coffee maker he can find in the size he needs is eleven dollars, but upon checking his change purse he only finds twenty bucks. And it’s only the second—he doesn’t get paid for another week and a half. Awesome. So, he figures the only reasonable thing he can do is give up coffee for ten days. Shouldn’t be too hard. He goes to the fridge, gets a bottle of water and curls up on the couch with his gameboy, settling in for the long haul. 

It is, in fact, very hard.

Maybe drinking half a pot of coffee a day for the past three years was a bit unhealthy, and maybe cutting down is the responsible thing to do. Also, maybe if Kenma didn’t live on caffeine and applesauce he would be able to stay awake enough to play as many video games as he likes. But sadly, the truth is that Kenma hasn’t had any coffee in over twelve hours, and within twenty minutes of petting Calcifer and sipping water his eyes are rolling. When his game almost slips from his bandaged fingers and onto the floor, he sits bolt upright and decides it’s time to bite the bullet. He needs coffee. Right now.

He takes a big gulp of water to get him going and takes a hit from the little pipe he keeps in the drawer of his coffee table to steel himself. Better safe than sorry. 

After throwing on some mostly clean jeans and a hoodie, he makes his way out of the apartment, gameboy in tow—he’s gonna beat the Cinnabar Gym today if it kills him. He walks outside and starts scanning the storefronts for a coffee shop, deciding that he’s just going to walk around until he finds one because literally anything will do. After walking a few blocks, he sees a cozy looking shop on the corner. It’s brick like the rest of the buildings in this part of town, but the walls are painted in warm swirling colors and small intricate shapes. The sign above the door is a pale yellow, lovingly adorned with the words, “Kiyoko’s Corner”, in swirly black lettering. He peers through the tall window nearest him and finds people sitting in cushy armchairs, reading books or talking amongst themselves, all holding varying drinks in pale pink cups. Okay, maybe a little strange and artsy, but definitely a coffee shop. Kenma saves his game (just in case) and steps through the door.

A little bell tinkles behind him, and he moves to the counter. There are a couple of customers waiting in line already, so he focuses his attention back on his game and—oh hell yes there’s the gym! He goes to the first trainer in the room and talks to him, taking a couple small steps forward as the line scoots up. He answers the question right but decides to fight him anyway (for the exp). Oh man, he’s totally gonna beat this gym, too many hours of his life have been devoted to grinding the absolute hell out of his pokemon for him to not beat this gym. And to think his Shellder had only been at level 21 when he’d caught it, jeez. Maybe he should stay here while he drinks his coffee so he can beat this gym before walking home. Today has already been pretty irritating, there’s no need to add getting hit by a car to the list of shitty things that ha–

“Um, excuse me? Sir?”

Kenma’s head tips up a little bit from his game, but just then his Nidoking uses earthquake and he has to see the effect. Rad, that’s a lot of damage. “Um,” Kenma starts, waiting to see what the drain on his pokemon’s hp will be. “Can I get a coffee,” he mumbles, watching the other trainer’s last pokemon faint. Nidoking grew to level 65. Imagine that. Life is sweet.

“A coffee? What kind of coffee? If you don’t mind me asking,” the barista asks. Kenma can hear amusement in his voice. Great, the one time Kenma goes out to get coffee and the barista is an asshole. Kenma would usually back down from the scrutinization, but in all honesty his day has been shitty, he needs caffeine, and now he has to pause his game to talk to some asshole barista. He’s irritated, to say the least. So where he would usually look at his shoes and ask for a cup of plain black whatever-is-cheapest-I-am-a-college-student-please-help, he instead glances up to look the guy in the face and.

Wow.

Okay. Maybe asshole barista guy is kind of hot.

He’s tall, of course he’s tall, the asshole. His dark hair is a spiky mess on the top of his head, and it flops across half of his forehead and spills down over the shaved sides to reach right past the tips of his ears. And wow okay, that’s an industrial and Kenma’s pretty sure it’s iridescent, what a bastard. And gauged ears. With black plugs that have little cats on them. What the fuck. Kenma finally takes in the guy’s face, and finds a smug slightly-dopey smirk under a pair of tired brown eyes and a ring going through the barista’s left nostril.

“What kind of coffee?”, beautiful asshole barista asks again and oh. Of course. Kenma was supposed to be ordering something. Not staring blankly at the staff. Right.

Kenma glances down at the guy’s name tag. It reads ‘Kuroo’ in blocky black letters, and there’s even a little cat face drawn on next to it. He looks back up at asshole barista Kuroo. “Surprise me,” he says. He hands Kuroo a five and stares at the glass of the countertop while he waits for his change, muttering his name before walking casually (he hopes) away to wait for his drink. He got four dollars back. Huh. Kuroo asshole barista must be planning to poison him. Or maybe just give him a cup of dishwater. What else would a tall beautiful punk ass gift from god do if they were gaped at for a solid minute by a small lump of probably unwashed garbage (when did Kenma last take a bath? Who knows).

“KENMA CAT!!” someone screams from behind the counter, and Kenma’s soul nearly leaves his body. He quickly comes up and takes his drink from a small man with unruly orange hair who’s bouncing on the balls of his feet so much it looks like he just went in the back and had an espresso shot contest. Kenma nods quickly to the kid (dude? How old is this guy?) and gives him a quick thank you before scuttling out of the shop.

Well, that was the most stressful fifteen minutes of his life. All for a cute pink cup of dishwater. Kenma walks down the street a little ways before lifting the cup to inspect it. On the side is his name written in the same blocky letters as were on Kuroo’s nametag, with a tiny little cat drawn next to it. That guy and cats. Seriously. He pops off the lid to peek inside and finds not dishwater but actually whipped cream. Pink whipped cream. He pulls the lid off fully and stares bewildered into the cup, eventually swiping one burnt finger through the cream to taste it. Strawberry? At this point, Kenma decides to throw all caution to the wind and take a sip. 

And it’s fucking delicious.

Kenma doesn’t get his Volcano Badge until midnight.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kenma is beautiful and sleepy and Kuroo is stoned and infatuated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so quick note, the first two chapters of this fic are from Kenma's perspective to get the story rolling, but from there on the perspective switches between Kuroo and Kenma each chapter. This chapter is from Kuroo's pov. Sorry if that's confusing!

Kuroo walks in to work at five in the morning very tired and very stoned. Hinata is already there, bounding around behind the counter and asking Kiyoko about the day’s specialty blends. Yamaguchi is bustling around in the front of the shop, straightening chairs and using the wifi to do something with his computer that probably involves photography. What a devoted guy. 

Kuroo lopes to the back of the shop to make himself a cup of coffee. He was out until two at a gig—Halloween themed to kick off spooky season—and just barely hauled himself out of bed in time to walk here (and it’s only two blocks). After a few moments of careful mixing he takes a sip of his favorite drink—a vanilla latte with two pumps of espresso and strawberry whip. Bless Kiyoko and Yachi for always coming in early to start the machines so everyone can wake up as soon as possible. This place would be chaos without the free boost of caffeine. 

Kuroo takes a seat at the bar and puts in his earbuds so he can think up some interesting parts before the first customers start trickling in. They have a big show next Friday, and there are still a few songs that are less than complete. Kuroo glances over at Hinata right in time to see him misstep on the stool he’s standing on and nearly take down the specials board. 

He closes his eyes and sips at his coffee. Maybe some of the employees don’t need the free caffeine.

\-----

It’s about nine a.m. when the guy shuffles in again, and honestly? Kuroo is very surprised, but delighted all the same. It seemed like his teasing yesterday (as good natured as it may have been intended) had freaked game boy out a little, so he decides he should behave. Kageyama’s here, asking for warm milk with hazelnut syrup like he always does and bickering with Hinata (like he always does) about the naming of the cookies today. Normally Kuroo would be a little irritated at them for holding up the line with their flirting, but today he’s okay with it. For now he can just look past Kageyama’s scowly face and watch Kenma. 

He’s staring down at his phone (seems like gluing his eyes to a piece of technology is a common theme with this guy) and tapping at it with one hand while fiddling with the strap of his messenger bag with the other. He’s seems a lot more put together today, his long pale hair pulled up in the back and looking a fair count cleaner than last time. He’s still wearing a hoodie and jeans, but the hoodie is black and has the little Gamecube symbol on it, and his jeans are a light shade of pink that perfectly matches his hair. He steps up to the bar as Kageyama follows Hinata away so they can yell more while Yamaguchi makes the drink (poor guy). 

Kenma looks up at Kuroo through his dark lashes and yet again asks for ‘a coffee’ before hurriedly darting his eyes back to his phone. Who the hell is this guy? Kuroo tilts his head a bit, hoping to catch Kenma’s eye but instead just getting a glance of a tiny emerald dangling from the lobe of Kenma’s ear. Cute.

“What kind, mystery boy?” Kuroo lilts. A tiny crease appears on Kenma’s brow, but he just keeps staring at his phone and mutters, “Surprise me.” Excellent. Just what Kuroo had hoped for.

Kenma shoves a few wadded bills across the counter, and Kuroo flattens them out and makes them all face the same way before taking one dollar and handing them back. Sure, maybe the drink he gave Kenma yesterday was more like five dollars, and the one he plans to give him today is a little more than that, but it’s no problem. His new flatmate had just moved in and started covering their half of the rent, and his cut from the show last night was decent enough that he hadn’t drank it all away. He doesn’t mind putting the difference in the register at the end of his shift. 

Kenma slumps away, and there’s nobody waiting behind him, so Kuroo takes this shining opportunity for what it is and asks Hinata to watch the register. With Hinata behind the counter (grumpy, milk-drinking Kageyama in tow) and Kenma’s little emerald earring in mind, Kuroo rushes to the machine with the vanilla brew and starts working his magic.

It was disappointing to say the least that he hadn’t gotten to see Kenma drink his coffee yesterday. And to think Kuroo had started the kid out on his absolute favorite. So, it’s with no basis of the guy’s preferences (and oh god Kuroo hopes he doesn’t have any food allergies) that he whips up a piping hot matcha latte. He even goes so far as to pour the cream in so that it forms little intricate swirls on the surface of the drink. Pure craftsmanship. Kuroo loves his job.

He’s going to deliver this one himself, if only for the fleeting moment of contact (and to see if Kenma reads the side of the cup where Kuroo doodled the gamecube logo and a tiny crystal next to his name). Kenma still appears buried deep in his phone, so when Kuroo calls his name he draws it out a bit to get his attention. And maybe to tease him, just a little bit. Why should behaving mean some friendly teasing is a no go?

Kenma approaches the counter, eyes trained on his phone all the while. How has this guy not been hit by a car? Does he ever look up? Admittedly, Kuroo finds it unreasonably endearing, and he can even see where the dark roots of Kenma’s hair are starting to peek out from below the pink. Kenma looks at him finally, vibrant gold eyes rimmed in red casting him in a nearly analytical gaze. Kuroo is a bit taken aback, but mostly he’s just curious—definitely the most curious he’s ever been about a customer.

“Whatcha playin’?”, he drawls. To his dismay, Kenma’s eyes are drawn back to his phone.

“Neko Atsume,” he mutters. And wow, how long had it been since that app had come out? Kuroo thought he was the only one who still had it, although he’d tried to delete it at one point when his phone ran out of memory. He really had tried, but he was in too deep—he’d already spent the entire itunes card his aunt had gotten him for christmas on goldfish, and then he had way too much money to delete the app. And maybe he’d nicknamed a particularly cute calico cat Butterbean and was willing to buy anything and everything the updates had to offer to get him into his yard so he could take cute pictures of him—but nobody needed to know that. So now he keeps his photos in the icloud and may or may not still check on his yard every two hours in the hopes that he’ll find Butterbean half-submerged in the choco cornet. Small pleasures.

“Cool. Have you got the newest update yet?”, Kuroo asks, hoping to draw as much out from this interaction as possible. Kenma glances at the cup of coffee Kuroo still holds on his side of the counter, so Kuroo pushes it over to him and leans against the bar a bit in hopes of keeping the boy’s attention.

“Uh, yeah. I only really have it as a way to pass time though, um..” Kenma picks up the cup, popping open the lid to peer inside and blow on the steaming contents. He takes a tentative sip and Kuroo does a very small mental fist pump. His face smoothes out a little, and his mouth quirks into something less like a frown. Okay, maybe Kuroo does a very big mental fist pump at that, but nobody has to know.

“I’m Kuroo, by the way,” he adds, trying to be friendly and hopefully lure a few more words out of this tiny little matcha loving (apparently) boy. Kenma meets his eyes momentarily before glancing from Kuroo’s face to his nametag in a way that makes Kuroo’s cheeks heat up a little bit. Right, he’s at work. Just your friendly local barista making a fool of himself for a brief conversation with a mysterious boy who probably has places to be. 

Kenma clears his throat a little, and mutters a “nice to meet you” at the counter before sliding his phone into the pocket of his bag and stepping away - to leave, presumably, since most people don’t strike up particularly long conversations with their friendly local baristas (who may or may not be checking them out).

Kuroo hopes this kid comes back, so he figures he should take the direct approach. “Oh, also, I like your earring, it looks really pretty with your hair. Have a nice day, see you next time!” Kuroo says as smoothly (not) as possible, shooting Kenma a winning smile when he turns back to look at him and hoping he doesn’t look intimidating and maybe like he’s actually a decent person. 

Kenma just kind of stares blankly at him for a second, the color rising high on his cheeks, before he simply nods and dashes out of the shop more quickly than Kuroo thinks he’s ever seen him move. 

Well then. Kuroo rests his forehead on his folded arms and huffs out a sigh. He doesn’t quite know if that went well or very, very badly. But, he supposes, he’ll see tomorrow. His schedule is packed this week, and he’s working five to eleven for the next two days. At least he gets to keep selling (buying, kind of) Kenma coffee—he hopes.

The bell above the shop door dings so he stands up and makes his way back to the register, because he’d rather not have Hinata giving someone the wrong change again; last time it lost them five dollars, goodness knows how. He asks the customer what they’ll have, and thus begins the last hour and a half of his shift—time he spends thinking of soft pink hair and glimmering emeralds and golden eyes.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kenma goes through his day and a certain barista lingers on his mind.

Kenma stumbles into work and tries to hide his obvious blush with his coffee. With the combined pinkness of his hair, his face, and the coffee cup (adorned with tiny doodles that he did notice, how could he not) he probably looks like some kind of pantone aesthetic blog come to life. He hurries to his tiny cubicle and sets his things down, plopping into his office chair and turning on his computer—hopefully if he looks busy, he won’t have to–

“Hey! What has you busting in here all pink? You look like a strawberry!” Lev practically yells from his adjacent cubicle. The dividers are low, so Kenma doesn’t miss the concerned look Lev is giving him from where he looms over the barrier (nor does he miss the affronted looks of the other interns at the sudden rise in volume. You’d think they would expect this by now, after sitting near this guy for any amount of time.)

“It’s nothing,” Kenma mutters as he opens up his email to check his itinerary for the day, praying that Lev will let this go. Though, who is he kidding, that’s pretty unlikely. Lev pulls a face and leans further into Kenma’s space. “Do I have to beat someone up? Because I’ll do it! I will! Just gimme a name!”, Lev whisper-shouts, apparently having noticed the looks they’re getting from their peers but not really knowing how to be quiet. 

Kenma rolls his eyes and opens an email from his supervisor. He gets to shadow Oikawa today. Great. As far as working goes, today is an easy day. As far as putting up with Oikawa, though? Yeah, today’s going to be hell. 

“It’s fine, Lev,” he says, giving him a small smile that’s only half placating. He does appreciate Lev’s concern, the guy’s only trying to help. Ever since he started here two months ago, the combination of Kenma being his senior (barely) in age and employment had sent Lev loping behind him looking for guidance and approval. He’s a little too enthusiastic a lot of the time, but he’s also stupidly endearing. He’s kind of like a big puppy, and Kenma’s pretty fond of him at this point.

It’s not like Lev has to worry though, Kenma really isn’t upset. He’s just… Well, he isn’t sure what. Flustered, he guesses. He doesn’t generally handle compliments well. Too much attention, as positive as it may be, is still kind of overwhelming to him—he’s gotten better about social interactions since highschool, when he would play his games and never talk to anyone. Now he plays his games and does some adulting and even talks to people sometimes. So really, he’s made good progress, and he’s proud of that fact, because god knows he worked for it. Ah, freshman year. Dorms. What an awful time.

Still. Compliments are difficult. And receiving a compliment from someone as criminally beautiful as Kuroo probably just took five years off his life. Not to mention the fact that he had complimented his earring of all things. It’s a tiny little gem, and it’s mostly hidden by Kenma’s hair at all times, so there’s only one conclusion to draw from this—Kuroo was really looking at him. There’s no way he was checking him out, because Kuroo is a god among men and about ten feet tall and probably has a line of people waiting to get at him. Maybe he’s just an interested rock collector. Or maybe he thought it was a bug or something gross like that just hanging out in Kenma’s hair. Why would he be looking at him so thoroughly for any other reason??

The phone ringing snaps Kenma out of his stupor. He picks it up and answer’s with his required ‘professional’ line of “Hello, this is Kozume Kenma at Out-of-This-World Games, how can I help you?”, raising an eyebrow at Lev who has his chin hooked over the wall of the cubicle that divides them. Lev crosses his eyes and sticks out his tongue before disappearing back into his work station. To think they aren’t even a full year apart in age.

Iwaizumi, Oikawa’s perpetually angry PA is on the line, and apparently it’s time for Kenma to start shadowing. Kenma tries to cover his dread with a thick air of politeness before hanging up the phone. He slumps down and presses his forehead to the edge of his desk, taking a couple deep, exasperated breaths. 

When he hears chuckling he glares at Lev, who's taken to peering at him over the divider again. Kenma sits up and gives Lev the most unimpressed look that he can muster, and the tall boy snaps into a salute and dives back into his workspace, keyboard clacking hurriedly. Kenma pushes his chair away from his desk, chugs the rest of his (amazing, wonderful, probably the best beverage he has ever had) coffee, and stands.

He throws the little pink cup with all of it’s cute drawings away and presses the button on the elevator. Thus begins the most soul-crushing workday of his life.

\-----

Kenma flops into bed at 11. He’s exhausted. 

Spending the day with Oikawa Tooru had been difficult, as always. He spent a full thirty minutes sitting on his Tumblr and eating a chocolate banana crepe, brought to him by a very bitter Iwaizumi, and then spent the next hour grumbling to himself about a character in his current game—Mars Attacks—that he couldn’t figure out the backstory for. So he played Dead Space through lunch—‘for research’—and sent Iwaizumi to get him yet another crepe (from the vendor who he thinks has the ‘best crepes in the whole city!’ and whose stand is conveniently located halfway across town. Kenma wonders how much Iwaizumi puts up with because it’s his job and how much he puts up with because it’s Oikawa). 

He finally got to leave the office just as the two of them started fighting because, “No way could his parents have died in an explosion, Iwa-chan! It doesn’t make any sense!!” Then he’d had to stop by the convenience store to buy some ramen cups and a half dozen eggs—protein is important—along with a new pack of rolling papers because yesterday he’d washed his pipe and Calcifer had knocked it off the dish rack and broken it, the bastard. 

He’d rushed through his reading for class as soon as he got home, because he really was very tired and he’d beaten Pokemon Yellow today with all the free time during work so he actually had a pretty prime opportunity to get some real sleep. However, after he got done eating dinner, rolling up the tiny bit of weed he had left into what was practically a needle, cleaning the catbox and doing the dishes, it was already seven thirty. He decided he’d earned a reward and took one tiny puff off of his baby joint—for the sake of his anxiety, he’d really need it to last him—and got on his laptop. He got caught up in listening to some local band on Spotify (his internet friend had emailed him and told him how obsessed she was with them and that he had to go see them next week) and scrolling through Tumblr. The band was actually pretty good; maybe Kenma would go and see them. It’s not usually his scene, but it would be after payday, and what’s better than watching a tiny punk band play and having a few drinks.

So here he is, laying flat on his face in his bed that is semi-covered in laundry. Really, he’s gonna deal with that. Eventually. But for now he’s feeling too sleepy and pleasant to even consider subjecting himself to such a thing. 

His mind drifts here and there, eventually settling on Kuroo (big surprise). He wonders if he has a favorite cat on Neko Atsume. Maybe he’s even nicknamed some. Kenma only has one cat nicknamed, and that’s just because it looks exactly like Calcifer. It really wasn’t his choice to name the cat Calcifur, it just happened. What would Kuroo nickname a cat? Does he enter in the word of the day like Kenma does?

Kenma’s thoughts drone on into sleep, and his dreams are soft.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kuroo tries to flirt, Kenma questions the pricing of the coffee at Kiyoko's Corner, and a few more good boys come into play.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Didn't expect this fic to get any attention, so thanks to all of you who are reading! Updates will probably slow down a little after this chapter, but I'll try to keep posting weekly!! 
> 
> Here's my Tumblr, come yell about volleyboys with me ( https://tsukkiboi.tumblr.com/ )

By the time Kenma walks into the shop the next day, Kuroo already knows what he wants to make him. It’s his third visit, so it makes sense to plan ahead, right? And maybe Kuroo had stayed up a little longer than necessary last night to think it over, but what can he say? He really likes his job. 

Kenma comes up to the counter without any games in tow today, his phone peeking out of the pocket on his messenger bag and a textbook tucked under his arm. His hair is a little ruffled, like he’d slept well, and Kuroo wonders if it feels as soft as it looks. He props an elbow on the counter and shoots Kenma what he hopes is a winning smile.

“Kenma, my favorite customer, what can I get you?”, Kuroo drawls. Kenma, who’d been looking somewhere over his shoulder, meets his eyes for a moment before focusing his gaze on Kuroo’s nametag. “Surprise me…please,” he mumbles. Oh, so courteous? Maybe Kuroo should compliment him more often; it’s not as if he doesn’t have a lot to compliment.

“That’ll be one dollar, please,” Kuroo states with a sly smile. Kenma flushes at that, but it isn’t enough to hide the little furrow that forms on his brow. He hands over the bill but loiters at the bar for a moment (thankfully nobody else has come in to order). Kuroo waits patiently for him to say something, and does his best to hide his elation that Kenma’s actually trying to take part in the conversation.

“Um, I was wondering… well. The drinks I get here are always really good so…” Kenma fidgets with the corner of his textbook and looks up at Kuroo. Wow, he has pretty eyes— surprisingly intense for such a shy little guy. “Why are they so cheap? That can’t be right… and if it is you’re really losing a lot of potential profit…” His eyes trail away along with his words, and Kuroo lets out a breath that he’d apparently been holding.

Kuroo tries to compose himself as discreetly as possible before he replies, “They aren’t too cheap. Only you get that price.” Kenma’s full on blushing at this point and his expression lands somewhere between indignant and distraught. A laugh slips through Kuroo’s lips before he can stop himself—it’s as if he’d just found out he was being _overcharged_. Kuroo lifts his hand in a placating gesture and says, “It’s okay, it’s okay! It doesn’t cause any problems for anyone. The shop still gets the full profit.”

“But… Why am I getting a discount?” Kenma mutters. A grin splits Kuroo’s face, and Kenma gives him a startled look. Kuroo makes a mental note to learn how to not freak this poor guy out (someday, maybe).

“I did say you’re my favorite customer. Isn’t it up to me to make sure you find what you like?” Kuroo asks. Kenma’s eyes widen even further (somehow) and he whips his head down the stare at his shoes. He says something under his breath and shuffles away from the register as another customer approaches.

Kuroo sighs, gives Hinata the order (number 6, a chocolate macchiato with peppermint whip) and sets in on serving the sudden rush—students, probably. As he’s handing his second customer their change, he catches Kenma giving him one last backward glance before he pushes out of the shop and into the cool Autumn air.

\-----

Practice had run long, so Kuroo and the guys are wandering the streets at one a.m., eating popsicles (Nishinoya had insisted on treating them, despite the weather) and discussing their next gig. 

They aren’t headlining—are still far from it, considering the state of their equipment—but this show is important. They’d just gotten to the point where people were recognizing them online, and Yamaguchi had even begged to shoot a music video for them (which of course they’d eagerly agreed to) because they have such ‘good vibes’. Not to mention that the band they’re opening for are pretty popular on the scene right now and apparently big fans. Which is mind-boggling; to think their scrappy little group would ever have fans. Especially fans who can get them more shows.

Akaashi flicks the ashes from his cigarette and sucks at his popsicle (blue) while he crosses the street, humming some vocals they’d worked out at practice under his breath. Nishinoya bounds around him and screeches his guitar parts, his popsicle (soda) hanging forgotten in his fingers, and when they reach the chorus Kuroo can’t help but drum the fingers of his free hand against his thigh. They don’t know where this music thing is going, they just hope it’s somewhere good. And as far as making memories goes, this has been probably one of the happiest (if not tiring, and a little frustrating) times in Kuroo’s life. Yamaguchi was right: they have hella good vibes. 

Eventually Noya splits off, bouncing up on his toes to give each of them a quick hug before sprinting away to the bench where Asahi sits waiting to walk him back to their place—he meets them here every practice day so Noya isn’t walking alone in the city at night. Kuroo thinks it’s probably the sweetest thing he’s ever seen (and if he’s a tiny bit jealous of their perfect little romance, nobody has to know). Tonight, as always, Asahi gives the remaining pair of them a quick nod, which they return easily, as is the custom, and takes Noya’s hand before disappearing down the sidewalk. It takes a few minutes, but eventually the distant squawk of Nishinoya’s voice and the quiet murmur of Asahi’s fade into the night.

Kuroo licks at the remainders of his fudge pop, and the chocolate of it brings his thoughts to Kenma. Yet again today he hadn’t seen him taste his drink, and at this pace Kuroo knows he’ll never figure out his favorite. He doesn’t know much about Kenma—little more than his name and that he has a love for old games—but he wants to know it all. He wonders what Kenma’s favorite food is, what his favorite game is. He wants to know what he does when he isn’t playing video games, and what kind of music he listens to.

Maybe Kenma likes punk stuff. Maybe he’s just a punk with a very pretty and soft exterior. Kind of like Akaashi, Kuroo supposes, although Kenma is pretty in the way that makes you wanna feed him and give him endless kisses, where Akaashi is pretty in the way that makes you slightly intimidated and also pretty sure he could punch you in the face and you’d say thank you. Of course, Akaashi’s just a big sweetheart with a soft spot for sweater dresses and salty food. Perhaps under his squishy exterior Kenma is actually a metalhead or something equally shocking. 

Kuroo doubts it, though. Kenma seems like the kind of guy who’d be more content cocooned up in a blanket with a game all weekend instead of tossing himself around in the pit. 

“Hey, Akaashi?” Kuroo starts, taking a thoughtful bite of his popsicle. Wow, it is really too cold for these. How does Nishinoya do it? “Do you think punk is universal? Like, do you believe that even the shyest people could find something for them at one of our shows?”

Akaashi gives him a sideways glance, biting the remnants of ice off of his popsicle stick. He tosses the stick in a bin they pass and looks straight ahead as he answers, “I think everyone can find something at a punk show. Even if it isn’t your scene, as long as the music is good and the message is positive, I think you’ll come away happy. At least, that’s how it was for me.” He takes a long drag off his cigarette and lets a billowing cloud of smoke up into the cool air, crunching the smoldering butt under his foot.

Kuroo lets his thoughts wander—what if Kenma showed up at one of their gigs? Maybe he should invite him? On the other hand, what if Kenma thought he was a creep for asking him to come—or worse? What if he thought they totally sucked?

Akaashi waits at the corner for Kuroo to throw away his popsicle stick and catch up, singing softly to himself. His voice is quiet and lilting, but there’s a certain power to it, an underlying confidence. Kuroo hopes Kenma wouldn’t think they sucked if he ever heard them, because then he’d know that he has a big stupid crush on someone with pretty weird music taste. Sometimes Kuroo doubts the group, thinks maybe they don’t have anything special going for them. All it takes is hearing Akaashi sing to change his mind.

They round the corner onto their street—a few weeks after meeting at a show they found out they only lived a few rooms away from each other in the same building—and find Bokuto leaned against their complex, bundled in warm clothes, smoking a cigarette and tapping away at his phone. He whips head up at Kuroo as he hears their footsteps approaching, and beams at him from over the lip of his big scarf. As far as roommates go, Bokuto has been surprisingly chipper (most of the time) and is a pretty cool guy in general. Kuroo counts himself lucky.

“Hey hey Kuroo! How was practice?” He’s grinning so hard Kuroo can’t help but mirror him. Before he can answer though, Bokuto’s eyes widen and his cheeks redden a bit more than can be excused by the weather. “Oh, hey Akaashi! How was practice for you?” he asks, slipping his phone into his back pocket and sounding far more confident than he looks.

“It was fine, Bokuto-san. I hope that you had a nice day. Goodnight Kuroo, Bokuto-san.” Kuroo watches Bokuto wave weakly at Akaashi with one hand, take a drag off his cigarette (which isn’t even lit anymore) and stare dumbly at his back as he walks into the building. It’s amazing how Bokuto and Akaashi have only spoken a handful of times, yet Bokuto’s got it this bad. 

Once Akaashi is inside, Bokuto slumps back against the wall and groans, scrubbing his hands against his temples. “He’s just so pretty, Kuroo! So mysterious! How do you even...” he trails off, apparently unable to find the words, and groans louder.

Kuroo props against the wall beside him and digs through his pocket for his lighter, passing it over once he’s unearthed it. Bokuto takes it solemnly and re-lights his cigarette, his hair drooping a little. “It’ll be okay Bo. Just learn to talk to him without looking like an idiot,” Kuroo says through a grin, to which Bokuto squawks indignantly and jabs an elbow into his side. Kuroo chuckles and elbows him back, snatching away his lighter when Bokuto is done with it. They lean against the apartments in silence, Kuroo stealing the occasional puff of Bokuto’s cigarette, and think about how truly pathetic they both are.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kenma goes to the shop to find that Kuroo is off, and the next day Kuroo is very much present.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trying to switch to a weekly posting schedule but wooo boy it's rough. Expect weekend updates from here on out. Thank you guys for your comments, they make me super happy! I hope you enjoy! (ﾉ´ヮ`)ﾉ*: ･ﾟ
> 
> Come cry about Kuroken w me ( https://tsukkiboi.tumblr.com/ )

Kenma wakes up ridiculously early on Thursday, the sun barely high enough in the sky to shine through his grimy windows. He has work at ten, and he doesn’t have class today, so he could, in theory, just roll over on his creaky old sofa and sleep until his alarm goes off. However, he’d just started a new game on Harvest Moon the night before, and if he goes ahead and gets coffee now he can probably earn a few music notes before he has to go into the office.

He hefts himself into an upright position and sits on his feet, wrapping the thin blanket his mom made him tighter around his shoulders. The weather has been getting cooler, and the heating in this apartment is faulty at best. Kenma dreads the thought of a shower—his hot water takes ages to warm up—and decides that he’ll just go to Kiyoko’s Corner as-is today. It isn’t as if he has anyone to impress. He’s made a fool of himself too many times for any hot punk baristas to be interested—if they’d even been interested in the first place.

Kenma stoops to pet Calcifer on his way out the door, scratching behind his ears and wondering fleetingly if Kuroo is good with cats. Some people find them aesthetically pleasing, but give them a real cat and they’re freaked out by it, or they don’t know how to pet it, or they just plain piss it off. Maybe one day—if Kenma ever gets the nerve to make an even bigger fool of himself—Kuroo will meet Calcifer and Kenma can learn all about his opinions on cats. Kenma rolls his eyes and pulls on his coat. Yeah, right. 

It’s windy outside, and Kenma hurries down the familiar sidewalks to the coffee shop, hands stuffed in his pockets. Things don’t seem very busy today, going by what he can see through the windows. Kenma pushes his way into the shop and finds a small crowd of people milling around the tables in front. He falls into line behind a couple: two tall pretty boys holding hands and talking to the redheaded barista who likes to yell. 

Kenma peers past the other customers and scans behind the bar, but he doesn’t see Kuroo anywhere. Maybe he’s on break, or maybe he’s off today. Maybe he finally got freaked out by Kenma coming in and staring at him every day. Well, probably not that last one, but you never know. 

“Oh, Kenma!” The barista calls out. “Jeez, Tsukishima, hurry up and pick out your drink.” The taller of the couple, presumably Tsukishima, adjusts his glasses and glares back at Kenma. Kenma looks past him to the barista’s name tag, which reads ‘Hinata’ in messy pink sharpie with a little sun doodled in next to it.

Tsukishima and his boyfriend—who Kenma vaguely recognizes as another barista from the shop—pay and step out of line. Kenma approaches the counter and Hinata beams at him, turning his attention away to start writing on a fresh cup. “Kuroo said you’d probably be by today! I already have your order!” He calls back to a small blonde girl behind the bar, handing her a cup and asking for a number eight, “With extra whip!” 

“How much is it?” Kenma asks, rifling through his change purse. Hinata pulls a confused face, but he brightens again in an instant.

“Kuroo already covered it, of course!” Hinata smiles at him across the counter as if everything is completely normal. This routine is regular for Kenma, but he’s surprised that anyone else would think so. Maybe Kuroo makes a habit of paying for his customers, who knows?

Hinata darts away from the bar momentarily and returns with Kenma’s drink. Kenma checks behind himself to make sure he isn’t holding anyone up and leans in a little to get Hinata’s attention. “Um, where’s Kuroo?” he murmurs, not really knowing a less-creepy way to phrase it.

Hinata appears unfazed, though. “He’s off today. He’ll be back tomorrow though, so don’t worry! Here you go!” He pushes the pink cup at Kenma and gives him a little wave as the bell above the door signals a new customer. Kenma returns the gesture and tucks an unruly lock of hair behind his ear, heading for the exit.

He’s already halfway to his apartment when he looks down at the cup. Hinata had simply put a poorly drawn cat where Kenma’s name should be, and Kenma can’t help but be a little endeared. Maybe the coffee shop has more to offer him than just one gorgeous barista. 

Still, he can’t help but feel disappointed.

\-----

The rest of Kenma’s day had passed without incident. He’d spent his shift at work organizing papers and showing Lev the band his friend had messaged him about - Rolling Thunder (a cheesy name in his opinion, but they more than make up for it with their music). He’s been listening to them pretty frequently since he’d been told about them, and he’s already decided that a ticket to their Friday the Thirteenth show is going to be the first thing he buys with his next check.

Fuck a coffee maker, he’ll survive—besides, in the four days since he’s been frequenting Kiyoko’s Corner he’s only really had one cup a day, so he can probably make the sacrifice of settling on a smaller coffee pot. He might even be able to skip a day here or there at this point if it weren’t for one stupidly alluring barista.

Speaking of said barista, he’s apparently trying to give Kenma a heart attack.

As autumn grew colder, of course they had turned up the heating in the shop - Kenma hadn’t really noticed it, since he’d been coming in every day, but it makes sense now in hindsight. However, the morning after Kuroo’s off day the temperature had dropped to just-above freezing - Kenma had practically run the few blocks to get there (well as near to running as he was willing to get) - and upon entering the shop he was hit by a wall of heat. Among other things.

Like the sight of Kuroo, fussing around behind the bar, with his sleeves pushed up above his elbows and the bright lines of tattoos dancing over his forearms. Shit. 

Kenma gawks at him in the doorway for a moment, probably wasting all of their heat but not really caring because _shit_. It shouldn’t be a shock that Kuroo has tattoos—what with the piercings and the haircut and all—but shock is the only way to describe what Kenma is feeling. 

He’s seen plenty of tattoos in his life and they’d been alright to look at, but never really held Kenma’s interest. Yet, as he lines up to get his drink it’s all he can do to try not to be incredibly obvious with his staring.

Apparently he likes tattoos after all, or maybe he just likes Kuroo. Probably the latter.

The woman in front of him goes to wait for her drink and Kenma is blessed with a closer look at the ink scattered over Kuroo’s skin. Thin red lines swirl high on one of his forearms and disappear under his sleeve, and Kenma spots a soot sprite on the wrist of his other hand (cute). 

He gazes for a while longer at a black shape poking out just above his left elbow—what is that?—before he realizes in a moment of shocking clarity that people probably don’t enjoy having their tattoos gaped at while they’re trying to work. He whips his head up, feeling utterly caught, and his face heats uncomfortably.

Kuroo is simply smirking down at him, not looking too put out by the whole situation, and raises one of his eyebrows.

“Long time no see,” he muses, looking, quite simply, smug as fuck. Kenma feels his cheeks warm further and at least has the sense to feel a little affronted. 

“It’s only been a day,” he says, as if he hadn’t spent the last twenty-four hours with Kuroo flitting through his thoughts. Kuroo doesn’t know that, though.

“But how I’ve missed you,” Kuroo makes a dramatic face before composing himself and asking, “The usual?” He grabs a cup while he waits for Kenma’s response and produces a sharpie from beneath the counter.

Kenma nods and hands him a dollar, which Kuroo tries to push back. Determined, Kenma drops the dollar on the counter and shoves his hands into his pockets. “You’re already giving me a discount, you could at least let me give you something…” He trails off, remembering his visit the day previous. “Thanks, by the way. For the drink yesterday.”

Kuroo grins at him momentarily before handing the cup back to the guy from yesterday—Tsukishima’s boyfriend, Kenma recalls—and telling him the order. He turns back to Kenma with a bit of pink in his cheeks. How someone can seem so smooth and be so cute at the same time, Kenma will never know.

“It really was my pleasure. Did you like it?”

Kenma nods again, casting his eyes back down at Kuroo’s arms. Yesterday his drink had been strong and a little nutty—hazelnut maybe?—and he really does have a weak spot for plain coffee after drinking it for so long. He steps away from the counter with one last look at Kuroo’s face and a murmured, “Have a nice day.”

Talking to people has never been his strong suit, but Kenma feels a little relieved after their conversation. Maybe someday he’ll get past Kuroo’s overwhelming attractiveness and actually be able to speak to him outside of the shop. His hopes are high, but he really doubts his chances. Kuroo’s appearance is a lot to handle.

Boyfriend number two—Yamaguchi, his nametag reads—calls out Kenma’s name and smiles sweetly at him while he hands him his drink. Kenma briefly wonders if being charming is a job requirement. 

He walks toward the door and sips at his coffee, and of course it’s delicious—something with cinnamon that tastes like falling leaves and nights spent bundled under covers. As he makes his way out into the cold, he notices that there’s a lot more writing than usual peeking out from under his hand and he lifts the cup to investigate.

There, scrawled in Kuroo’s blocky handwriting, is his name. Beside it is a soot sprite, surrounded by tiny stars. And finally, taking up the majority of the cup, there’s a string of numbers in a long sloping line. 

A phone number. Kuroo’s phone number. 

Kenma walks unsteadily toward his apartment. Kuroo really is trying to kill him.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys have a really great Saturday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is so long, geez. 
> 
> Come check out my Tumblr. Let's be friends! ( https://tsukkiboi.tumblr.com/ )

Kuroo isn’t usually nervous, but he is today.

Generally, he’s decent at flirting—good, even—but there’s something about Kenma that makes him question his skills. He just really doesn’t want to fuck things up. So it had been a big step for him yesterday to write his phone number on the cup. Judging by what he could see of Kenma’s reaction, it had gone over either really well or really badly, and he’s dying to know if things will change from here.

The thing is, he probably won’t hear from Kenma today because he doesn’t have work. Hypothetically speaking, Kenma could text him at any time, but it seems pretty unlikely. Kuroo gets the feeling he’s going to have to be the one to initiate contact outside of the shop. If only Kuroo had the balls to ask for Kenma’s number instead of giving out his own, but there’s a lot more potential for rejection there that he isn’t capable of dealing with.

So for now he’s just sprawled across the sofa, watching a shitty horror movie with his head in Bokuto’s lap. The film is hardly scary, but they’d smoked a hell of a bowl not twenty minutes ago and Bokuto is clearly deeply involved. Whenever things get tense he’ll fiddle nervously with Kuroo’s hair, and it’s soothing in a weird way. Bokuto’s lap is definitely not a safe place for his head to be though, because his whole body jolts with every poorly-done jumpscare and Kuroo thinks he might have whiplash by the time the credits roll.

It’s during a particularly suspenseful scene that Kuroo’s phone buzzes on the coffee table. Bokuto shouts and leaps bodily off of the sofa, sending Kuroo hurtling into the floor and smashing his elbow into a table leg. 

A few minutes of Bokuto’s screeched apologies and Kuroo’s grunts of pain and acknowledgement later, they’re both settled comfortably on (safe, opposite sides of) the couch. Kuroo finally checks his phone and sees a message notification from an unknown number. It simply reads _‘thanks for the coffee’_ , but it sends his heart pounding all the same.

He looks at the television for a moment, watching some screaming girl run through a dark house. It seems impossible to Kuroo, but Kenma had actually texted him. Maybe he isn’t so meek after all. Kuroo types out his response, reading it over (possibly for a little longer than necessary) before pressing send.

_It was my pleasure, as always. How did you like it?_

He splays out and digs his toes under Bokuto’s thigh, trying to focus on the (awful) movie as opposed to the warm weight of his phone where it sits on his chest. Kenma’s probably busy, so there’s no point in just sitting around and waiting for him to text back.

But then he does. When Kuroo opens the message, he looks at the timestamp to see that he’d only taken two minutes to reply.

_it was great, as always. off today?_

Kuroo grins to himself. Kenma seems like he actually wants to talk to him. Life has never been so sweet. 

_Yeah, but I’m on my normal shift tomorrow_ ┐(￣ヘ￣)┌ _What are you up to?_

They text back and forth through the end of the movie and even Kuroo finishing up his math homework. Kenma tells Kuroo about his job and laments about his boss (who is apparently very needy but equally successful). Even his cat makes it’s way into the conversation.

Kuroo is delighted with every new piece of information. Admittedly, he’s a little bit more focused on finding out about Kenma than he is telling about himself. Kenma brings it up after a couple hours, and Kuroo sees it as the perfect moment to make his move.

_I’d love to tell you everything over dinner. When do you get off?_

He chews at his thumbnail while he waits for Kenma’s response, having fully accepted at this point that he’s a nervous wreck. This is it, the pivotal moment. If Kenma says yes, he officially wants to spend time with Kuroo aside from the five minutes they see each other at the shop. But if he says no?

His phone buzzes after what feels like ages (but was probably just a few minutes).

_3\. where do you want to meet up?_

Kuroo grins and glances at the time - it reads 2:26. Perfect. 

He smiles like a dope as they set up the specifics, all the while trying to put together an outfit (something not too nice but not too casual). After a long moment of indecision in front of his mirror, he settles on some only slightly torn black jeans, a soft knit sweater with a cool pattern, and a pair of boots.

It’s 2:48 by the time he’s done fussing over his appearance, and he barely manages to call out his goodbyes to Bokuto before jogging out the door. He has a pretty long way to walk and the last thing he needs is to be late.

He steps into the chilly fall air, the breeze kicking up a pile of warmly-colored leaves, and pulls his phone from his pocket to see Kenma’s last text.

_see you then_

He practically skips his way down the street (but nobody needs to know that).

\-----

Kuroo arrives at Kenma’s office just before the clock strikes three. As he leans his back against the brick building, he’s accompanied by the distant chiming of the clocktower in town square. 

He shoots Kenma a quick text to tell him he’s here, and settles in to wait. Hopefully it won’t be too long though—he’s been jittering with excited nerves ever since they’d agreed to meet up. On second thought, maybe some time alone would give him a chance to school his expression into something less eager.

Just as Kuroo closes his eyes, with the grand intention of meditatively calming the fuck down, he hears the front door of Out-of-This-World Games open. He peeks out of the corner of his eye to make sure it isn’t Kenma, but of course it is. 

Kuroo lifts himself off the wall and smiles down at Kenma, who responds with the slightest upturn of his mouth and a small wave. Then Kuroo actually takes in his appearance and, admittedly, stares a lot. Kenma’s hair is hanging soft at his shoulders, and he’s wearing the first non-hoodie outfit that Kuroo has ever seen him in: a baby blue sweater vest with a white button down and a pair of deep blue jeans. He has his messenger bag slung over one shoulder and a coat hanging off his arm, pink coffee cup in hand.

“Hi,” he mutters, quickly followed by, “Stop staring.” A blush heats Kuroo’s cheeks, and though he turns his face away he continues to sneak glances at Kenma while he fiddles with something inside his bag and starts pulling on his coat.

“Let me get that for you,” Kuroo says (only slightly panicked) after Kenma nearly spills the last dregs of his coffee down the front of his shirt. He takes the cup and turns it over in his hands, finding the panel where they write the customer’s name. It says “Ken-chan” in big round letters. Of course he recognizes Yamaguchi’s handwriting after working with him for nearly a year.

“Ken-chan?”, he asks, trying to keep the surprise from his voice. He knows Yamaguchi is friendly, but how many times had he waited on Kenma again? Kuroo is in no way jealous (not a bit), he’s really just confused about how the two of them got so close so quickly. He certainly isn’t jealous of an honorific.

“Yamaguchi. Business was slow today, so he talked to me at the register for a good twenty minutes. I thought I was going to be late for work…” He tugs at the sleeves of his coat and gazes blankly across the street for a moment. “He asked if he could photograph me sometime, and then he went on and on about his boyfriend and what a good model he is until another customer came in.” Kenma’s face scrunches at the memory, but then he huffs a quiet laugh. “It was awkward, but he seems like a nice guy… I don’t really know why he’d want to take pictures of me though.”

Kenma trains his eyes back on Kuroo’s face, confusion evident in the delicate crease of his brows. Kuroo has taken to staring dumbly at him again, and really who can blame him? He’s never heard Kenma say that many words, let alone heard him laugh. And now he’s just staring back at Kuroo with his big pretty eyes and his perfect mouth pouted questioningly and oh. Kuroo’s supposed to say something instead of just standing here like a statue of hopeless affection.

He clears his throat and hands Kenma his coffee cup, turning on his heel and heading toward his favorite restaurant. 

“Yamaguchi likes taking photos of pretty things,” he manages, hoping Kenma can’t hear the way his voice cracks. When did he become so uncool? He looks to Kenma who’s taken to walking beside him, staring down at the sidewalk. There’s a faint blush spreading across his face, but it could be easily excused by the wind. 

The walk is pleasant and not very long, and they spend it talking about the rest of Kenma’s day at work and Kuroo’s online classes. Within ten minutes they’re outside, and Kuroo looks up at the familiar lights of the storefront and pulls the door open for Kenma to step inside. Yaku is working today, and he ushers them over to a booth in his section.

“You want the usual, Kuroo?” he asks, sitting down a menu for Kenma. Kuroo nods and grins at Yaku, earning an eye roll in return. “How boring. What do you want to drink, hon?” That last bit is directed at Kenma, and his eyes widen as he scans the menu.

“Uh, could I get a matcha?” he asks, playing with the corner of the menu where the lamination is starting to come loose. Yaku scribbles something down and breezes away, and Kuroo is left to smile down at the tabletop. Apparently, Kenma really does like matcha. Kuroo is great at his job.

\-----

Dinner is great. Amazing even. Kuroo spends the time sipping a beer and eating the best ramen in the whole city. But that’s nothing new—he comes into this place at least once a week and always gets the same thing. 

No, what makes the dinner great is Kenma. Kenma talking about his classes and how he isn’t prepared for junior year and looking blissfully happy while munching on spicy tuna rolls and drinking matcha and sweet wine in tandem, a flush high in his cheeks. Kuroo is positively infatuated, and he tells Kenma everything that he asks about him.

Well, almost everything. When he tells Kenma he’s in a band, he skirts around giving up their name. He instead informs him that he’s the drummer and they aren’t very popular and basically does his best to divert attention away from the topic. 

It isn’t that he doesn’t want Kenma to hear them, because he _really_ does. He’s just scared. As far as he can tell, he likes Kenma. A lot. Maybe too much considering this is their first date (and it isn’t even explicitly a date, since Kuroo hadn’t called it one over the phone). But if Kenma ever listened to them and didn’t like it, Kuroo wouldn’t know where to go from there. 

He understands that people have different taste in music, and he knows that Rolling Thunder isn’t everyone’s cup of tea. But it’s important that Kenma like them, because Kuroo and his friends pour themselves entirely into their music. Kenma not liking them would mean that he doesn’t like a pretty big part of Kuroo himself.

So Kuroo pushes the band far back in his mind and specifically does not talk about them. And things go beautifully. They eat and talk about (almost) everything late into the evening. By the time Kuroo pays the check—“At least let me buy you some real food,” ”You buy me coffee _all the time_ ”—and they step outside, the sun is already setting.

They stand there for a moment, adjusting to the cold (and not wanting to say goodbye, in Kuroo’s case), and Kenma tugs at the hem of Kuroo’s coat.

“Want to come to my place for a bit? You can pet my cat,” he says, as if Kuroo needed a reason other than Kenma’s own presence to want to come over. Kuroo can’t help but feel a swell of endearment in his chest at the fact that Kenma (albeit a little tipsy) would try to bribe someone with his cat, and he’s saying yes faster than his brain can follow. 

\-----

The first thing Kuroo notices about Kenma’s apartment is that it’s freezing. In all honesty, it might be colder in here than it is outside. Kuroo pulls off his boots, glad he wore thick socks—keeping his shoes on would be incredibly rude, but it would probably be even worse if he shoved his icy feet under Kenma’s ass the same way he does to Bokuto.

The second thing he notices is that it’s, for lack of a better word, _cute as hell_.

The flat itself is nothing extraordinary—it’s pretty small, the paint is peeling in a few places, and if Kuroo had to guess he’d say that the heating is broken. Despite all of that, it’s amazingly homey. There’s a squashy-looking couch piled high with blankets in the middle of the living room, and framed photos of various scenery litter the walls. The floor is scattered with pillows, and Kuroo can see tiny terrariums sitting here and there all about the room.

“You have plants?” Kuroo asks, moving to stand in front of the living room table to admire a squat glass dome that covers some spiky looking greenery. Kenma shuffles over and starts shucking his coat, humming in acknowledgement.

“Yeah, they’re succulents. My boss has a thing for them, and his PA gives me clippings when they grow too big. They won’t make it very long though, unless my heat gets fixed.” His mouth pulls into a tiny frown, and he drags his fingertip over the curve of the glass.

A loud meow pulls them out of their moment of silence for the plants, and Kuroo looks down to see a fluffy orange and black calico rubbing up against the table. Kenma kneels and puts a hand out to the cat, smiling when he smashes his face into it and meows again. A few moments of ear scratching later, Kenma looks up at Kuroo.

“This is Calcifer. He’s a fat baby,” Kenma says affectionately, gesturing at the pile of fur purring in his lap. Kuroo smiles and sits cross legged on the floor opposite Kenma. Eventually, Calcifer lifts his head and lets Kuroo pet him. Success.

Kuroo pets the cat for a long while, and he belatedly realizes that Kenma’s hands have stilled. He looks up to find big gold eyes trained on his face, gaze calculating. Kuroo has never seen him look like that, but before he can figure out the meaning behind it Kenma snaps out of his daze. He rises unsteadily from the floor and moves to hang up his coat.

“Do you want tea?” Kenma asks, walking into what Kuroo assumes is the kitchen. 

“Sure,” Kuroo says, “I’ll have what you’re having.” He remains seated in the floor, stroking Calcifer’s back. The familiar sounds of water boiling and dishes clinking filter into the living room, and it isn’t long before Kenma returns with two mismatched mugs in hand.

Kuroo eventually finds the will to leave Calcifer and put his own coat on the rack by the door. When he turns back Kenma is squatting down by the television, sifting through a bin of dvds, their tea steaming on the coffee table. Kuroo settles on the couch and sips at his, something creamy and sweet. It’s really fucking good, and he informs Kenma of this with his face sitting low in his mug.

“It’s called Lady Grey. You can only really get it from this one company in England, so my mom always sends it to me when she goes there for work.” He emerges triumphantly from his hunt with Spirited Away in tow. “Wanna watch this?” he asks, and Kuroo nods so vigorously that he almost spills his tea.

It wouldn’t be a stretch to say that Spirited Away is Kuroo’s favorite movie. Hell, the soot sprite on his wrist was one of his very first tattoos. He could watch it over and over again and he’d probably still enjoy it. Kenma puts the disk in the player and Kuroo feels a little thrill of happiness; at least his big dumb crush is on a boy with good taste in cartoons.

Kenma sits on the other end of the sofa and starts digging around for something while the movie starts up. Kuroo watches him poke around at the books on the table and kick at a few of the pillows on the floor. Eventually he faces Kuroo.

“I think my remote is gone. Last time I used it I fell asleep… It could be anywhere…” he turns away again and promptly shoves his entire arm between the cushions of the sofa. Kuroo stares on dumbfounded before doing the same on his respective end, skimming his hand over loose change and lighters—and is that a fork?—without success.

They come up empty handed and go back to searching the coffee table, nearly upending a few succulents and Kenma’s mug. Then Kuroo notices a little drawer pull peeking out below the lip of the table.

“Does this open?” he asks, tugging at the handle. Apparently it does, because it slides right off its tracks and into the floor. Kuroo starts swearing and apologizing at light speed—he thought it was one of those little decorative drawers since Kenma hadn’t looked there already—but Kenma doesn’t even react. He simply plucks the remote out of the mess and trains it on the tv to skip the remaining ads.

Kuroo stoops to put the drawer back in place, and starts lifting it’s contents off the floor. It apparently wasn’t very full in the first place, just an old grimy pen, a few equally grimy bobby pins and—rolling papers? Kenma joins Kuroo in cleaning up the mess, but Kuroo just sits there in awe, watching Kenma put away a grinder and a cigarette case.

The boy he has a crush on—the pretty, nerdy, cat-owning boy—smokes weed. A real-life pretty boy stoner. Kuroo is amazed.

Kenma curls up on his respective end of the couch, a blush creeping over his face, and taps at the remote. Kuroo continues to stare, and Kenma shoots him an anxious look when he starts patting at the pockets of his jeans. Kuroo finally finds what he’s been looking for, and unearths his own cigarette case from his back pocket. He pops it open to reveal to (a very surprised) Kenma five perfectly rolled joints—god bless Akaashi. 

Kenma meets his eyes, expression dubious, but Kuroo just grins.

\-----

The movie is awesome—as always. They smoke through the opening scenes, and it doesn’t take long for the pair of them to be sitting side-by-side in the middle of the couch. They giggle at the funny spirits and fawn over the cute ones, and eventually Calcifer hops up into Kenma’s lap and steals all of their attention.

It’s already half-past eleven by the time Kuroo manages to pull himself from the sofa. Kenma shuffles to the door with him, Calcifer in tow, while he pulls on his coat and boots. When Kuroo stands upright he finds Kenma staring at him in that same analytical way, bottom lip caught between his teeth. Kuroo really, _really_ has it bad.

He huffs a sigh past the tight feeling in his chest and folds Kenma in a hug. Kenma holds completely still, and for a moment Kuroo thinks he’s finally fucked everything up. But then Kenma wraps a hand in the fabric at the back of his coat, and Kuroo’s so relieved that he can’t help but squeeze him a little tighter.

“See you tomorrow?” he asks, pulling away (despite how much he doesn’t want to).

Kenma smiles up at him, a blush dusting his cheeks.

“Of course.”

The walk home is cold, but Kuroo beams the whole way.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The road to Friday the 13th.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOW this took me so long to write („ಡωಡ„) Sorry for the incredibly late (and short) update, and thank you to all of you who supported me through the wait! Your comments and kudos are what got me through this chapter. Hopefully the next one will be out much much sooner!
> 
> Let's hang out on my Tumblr! ( https://tsukkiboi.tumblr.com/ )

Over the course of the next few days, Kenma and Kuroo hang out a _lot_. 

They still see each other in the shop on Kuroo’s work days, but most of their time is spent curled up on Kenma’s couch playing video games or watching movies. At one point they even spend an evening at Kuroo’s apartment, but his roommate (Bokuto, maybe?) stresses Kenma out, so they end up leaving to grab dinner somewhere less overwhelming. Kenma feels bad for Kuroo having to leave because he’s uncomfortable, but Kuroo doesn’t mind at all—he even seems happy about the prospect of going out to eat together.

That’s the thing about Kuroo—he’s really fucking nice. He never complains about Kenma’s anxiety—he seems perfectly content to laze about when necessary. He always pays for dinner (although that's a bit more annoying than kind). And sometimes he gets this little smile on his face when he thinks Kenma isn't looking. It’s just a tiny, pleased curve of his lips, but it effects Kenma ridiculously.

He’s caught himself staring a few times, ever since they’d first met up away from Kuroo’s job. It’s so easy for him to get caught up in the softness of Kuroo’s eyes, or the slight blush that dusts his cheeks when he gets embarrassed.

That’s another thing—Kenma has tried to talk to Kuroo about his band (he _really_ wants to hear them) but every time he brings it up Kuroo gets all flushed and stuttery. Kenma watches him clam up, averting the topic time and time again, and he’s pretty damn curious at this point. 

Maybe Kuroo doesn’t think they’re good. Or worse, maybe he thinks they’re really good and he just wants Kenma to keep his nose out of his personal life. Kenma think that’s pretty unlikely though, considering how much Kuroo has told him about himself and all the time they’ve spent together.

Kenma contents himself by listening to Rolling Thunder, focusing on the drum parts, and wondering how Kuroo plays. He’s kept his slight ( _very slight_ ) obsession with them a secret, because he doesn’t want Kuroo to judge his taste in music. Kenma’s pretty private about showing people the things he loves, and Rolling Thunder is quickly becoming one of those things.

So Kenma jams out in secret and puzzles over the music Kuroo makes. It’s a bit pathetic, but he’ll get by for now.

\-----

On Wednesday, during their lunch break Kenma scoots his chair into Lev’s cubicle.

“Hey, what are you doing Friday?” he asks, watching Lev shove an entire rice ball into his mouth. Lev startles and chokes a bit, only capable of speech after chugging some juice and taking a few gasping breaths.

“I don’t have any plans,” he coughs out, “Do you want to hang out?”

Kenma slurps up a mouthful of cup noodles, chewing ponderously. On one hand, he’s definitely going to this concert and having somebody with him will probably be good for his nerves. On the other hand, of all the people to bring, Lev is the most likely to try and pull Kenma into the pit or something equally stressful. But Lev is his friend, and he likes the band too. Besides, today is payday—he has enough money that he may need someone to help haul his drunk ass home.

“Wanna come see Rolling Thunder with me?” he asks, and Lev’s face lights up.

They make plans to meet up at Kenma’s before the show and get ready so they can take the train together. By the end of his shift, he’s feeling a little more excited about the night out. What can he say? Lev is stressful, but he’s fun. 

Now there’s just one more thing to do.

\-----

Kenma is sitting in the floor tucked against the couch, and he can hear the Neko Atsume music filtering quietly out of Kuroo’s phone. He pauses his game (Pikmin 2) and leans back to look up at Kuroo.

“Are there any cats in your yard?” he asks, taking the pipe from Kuroo and poking around his legs for the lighter. Kuroo digs it out from beneath his thigh and passes it to him, waiting for Kenma to take a hit before shoving his phone into his face. 

There’s only one cat in his yard, a calico sitting in a box. Kenma hums in recognition and exhales a lungful of smoke onto Kuroo’s phone.

“That’s my favorite cat, he looks just like Calcifer,” he mutters, pushing the pipe back at Kuroo and taking the phone. He snaps a picture of the cat and sits Kuroo’s phone on the sofa, turning back to the television and unpausing his game. 

“Mine too,” he hears Kuroo say from behind him. He starts rounding up his pikmin in preparation for sundown, when he suddenly remembers something. 

He’d planned to ask Kuroo if he wanted to come to the show tomorrow. They’ve been hanging out for nearly a week now, and Kenma figures he can’t keep his ( _teensy tinsy_ ) infatuation a secret forever. He swallows hard and watches his pikmin climb into their respective Onions. Now or never.

“Hey, are you free tomorrow night?” He doesn’t turn away from the tv, watching the stats of his day reel by.

Kuroo chokes a little on his exhale and starts coughing violently. Kenma hands him a bottle of water from the coffee table while his game saves, hoping he won’t have to repeat his question. God, why is he so nervous?

“Nope! I have, um, a lot of studying to do!” he says, far too loudly. Kuroo has a startlingly complex look on his face, some kind of mix between distraught and annoyed, so Kenma whips his head back to the tv and starts a new day.

After twenty minutes of awkward silence, Kuroo makes a flimsy excuse to leave and dashes from the apartment. Kenma watches dazedly as he runs off, and continues to stare when he busts back in, face beet red, to grab his coat from where he’s left it hanging by the door.

Well, that was… Odd. Kenma sighs and saves his game again.

\-----

The venue is really fucking loud. Next level loud. And the show hasn’t even started yet. Incredible.

Kenma’s sitting at a table in the corner, close enough to the stage to see but far enough away that he won’t go deaf. Lev disappeared the moment they’d walked through the door, probably going to mingle (because he somehow knows _everyone_ ) and get drinks.

There are people everywhere, piling up in front of the stage or lingering near the bar. About half of the crowd is dressed up—apparently Friday the 13th is as fitting a time to wear costumes as Halloween—and when Lev wanders over to their table carrying multiple beers there’s a jack o'lantern mask hanging around his neck that definitely wasn’t there before

“Kenma! Their merch guy is giving out costumes! Look!” he shouts over the din of the club, setting down the drinks and pulling his mask over his face. The combination of his lanky body and the tiny mask is pretty hysterical, and Kenma can’t help the laughter that bubbles out of him. Lev pushes the mask up onto his forehead and grins, fishing around in his pocket for something. He unearths a headband adorned with cat ears and pushes it into Kenma’s hands.

“I got this one for you!” he says, plopping down at the table and setting in on their hoard of beers. Kenma looks down at the little black ears and shrugs before popping them onto his head. When in Rome, right?

Suddenly, the lights go down, the room only illuminated by the orange glow of the stage. Kenma turns in his seat and watches in earnest as the members of Rolling Thunder start trickling into view. 

An incredibly short—maybe even shorter than Kenma—guy wearing a frankenstein mask and an electric guitar hops across the stage, accompanied by booming shouts from the crowd. The volume level only rises when an (admittedly very pretty) man with cat ears not unlike Kenma’s saunters up to the mic, carrying a sleek black bass. The third member slides behind the drum set, a tengu mask obscuring his face.

The shrieks of the crowd only die down for the bassist to introduce the group, but they return twice as loud when the guitar revs up and they set in on their first song.

They’re incredible, probably even better live. It only takes two beers and three songs for Lev to be flailing around in the pit and Kenma to be bobbing his head while he sips at his drink. 

In an interlude about halfway through the set the guitarist wanders over to the drummer and says something to him that has them both shaking with laughter and pulling off their masks. The crowd cheers. Kenma freezes.

Upon the stage, laughing with a hand braced on a cymbal, is Kuroo Tetsurou.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The show, and the morning after.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last chapter was really short, and I was really into writing this one, so I figured I may as well get it out there tonight. This is the next to last chapter, but don't worry! There's gonna be a happy ending!!
> 
> Here's my Tumblr! ( https://tsukkiboi.tumblr.com/ )

Kuroo is such a coward.

He really hadn’t meant to keep the band a secret this long, was hoping to tell Kenma all he wanted to know about them when the time was right. And the time _was_ right when Kenma had asked if he was free Friday night. Kuroo could have simply told Kenma about the gig and asked him to come, could have shown him his band first hand and how amazing they are and how unbelievably proud of them he is.

But he’d chickened out. _Again_.

So, yeah, Kuroo is a coward. However, it’s hard to keep lingering on that when he can hear the crowd cheering all the way from the dressing room, hear them get even louder when Nishinoya runs onstage.

Kuroo pulls his mask over his face and takes a deep breath. All his flaws aside, he’s going to rock the hell out of this show.

\-----

They’ve been playing for fifteen minutes, and Kuroo might just pass out.

Maybe it wasn’t the best idea to wear warm black clothes when he knew damn well he was going to be sitting under five spotlights and sweating his ass off playing the drums. His breath puffs back into his face on every exhale, blocked by the mask, and he’s soaked to the skin.

He smashes down on the cymbal when their fourth song ends and immediately braces himself on the snare, breathing as deeply as he can through Akaashi’s little talk with the audience. Nishinoya saddles up beside him, interjecting a few playful notes into Akaashi’s speech, and leans toward his ear.

“I think I might die if I have to wear this fucking mask for one more second. Let’s make this a striptease, eh?” he mutters. Kuroo busts out laughing at the idea of taking off a gross sticky mask as being sexy, and Noya giggles along with him. 

They push up their masks and they crowd practically screams. Nishinoya looks out at them, meeting Asahi’s eyes from his perch in the corner, and flings his mask off the stage. Kuroo thinks it’s gross—god knows how many bodily fluids are on that—but the people seem to like it judging by the way they’re elbowing around to catch the smelly old thing. 

“Thanks, man. I really thought the end was nigh,” Kuroo says. He gives Noya a firm pat on the back and starts pushing his sleeves up, eventually deciding to just take the whole sopping shirt off. The audience screams again, and Nishinoya makes an exaggeratedly shocked face.

“I didn’t mean for it to be that sexy, Kuroo!” He leans into his mic with the exclamation, and the room laughs along with him. Kuroo simply shrugs and adjusts the mask on his forehead. Akaashi shakes his head and starts picking out the intro to their next song on his bass.

Kuroo grins and readies himself. He loves this band.

\-----

It happens during the last song. The lights are flickering along with the climax of the music, Nishinoya is playing like his life depends on it, and Kuroo is going wild on the drums.

And then, out of the corner of his eye, he sees Kenma. 

The venue is dark, more so with the flashing of the stage lights, but there’s no doubt in Kuroo’s mind.

Kenma’s at his show, sitting near the back. He has cat ears on, and his lips are parted slightly. He isn’t one for maintaining eye contact, but he’s locked in on Kuroo. 

Kuroo doesn’t look away. Neither does Kenma.

They continue to stare at each other through the end of the song, through the cheers and the applause. Kenma doesn’t even clap; he just sits there, mouth agape. He watches Kuroo pick up his shirt during Akaashi’s parting words, watches him jump off the stage and push through the crowd.

Kuroo is standing directly in front of him, and Kenma is still gazing up at him with wide eyes.

“Hi,” Kuroo says, “You’re here.” It’s all he can think to say. Apparently he’s a coward _and_ a moron.

Kenma blinks, so Kuroo counts it as a success. He brings a bottle to his lips and takes a long drink. 

“Hi,” he murmurs back, voice nearly imperceptible over the noise of the club. He clears his throat but he still sounds hoarse when he says, “You’re in Rolling Thunder.”

“Yeah,” Kuroo answers although it wasn’t a question. _Moron_. 

“You’re in Rolling Thunder,” Kenma repeats, and just as Kuroo’s starting to think he might need to call an ambulance, Kenma speaks up. “You’re in my favorite band.”

Kuroo is dumbstruck. Maybe he’d misheard. Maybe _he_ needs an ambulance. This is all too surreal.

Kenma finally looks away, face bright pink under the dim lights of the club. He clears his throat again and drains his beer.

“Let me buy you a drink,” he says, and Kuroo smiles down at him.

\-----

The night is going wonderfully. It’s like a dream.

Kuroo is sitting at the little table in the corner, breathing hard. He’d barely managed to pull himself out of the pit with all of his limbs intact—which was pretty lucky, considering that he is _just this side_ of tipsy.

The main act is great, and they give big praise to the openers. They’re so well put together, it’s amazing. They also have five members, which is equally amazing. Watching them, crammed onto that tiny stage but still putting on the show of their lives, is _amazing_.

Speaking of amazing, Kenma is sitting on the other side of the table, sipping another beer. He’s wearing _cat ears_. Kuroo never wants this night to end.

People filter up to the table now and then, strangers with praise to give and pictures to take, a few label guys (who Kuroo is getting less and less equipped to not be very rude to), and friends wearing increasingly ridiculous costumes and often bearing drinks.

Around his fourth shot of the night—brought over by a jovial Hinata and a stoic Kageyama—Kuroo decides that if he doesn’t leave soon he may just die of alcohol poisoning. All it takes is a touch of Kenma’s hand for them to be standing (more like leaning on Kuroo’s part) to leave. It’s all in good time though, because as they stumble through the exit the band onstage is just finishing up their encore. Kuroo will text them his apologies tomorrow.

They sway down the street toward the train station, Kenma fighting to hold Kuroo steady. Kuroo can’t help much, but he does wrap his arms around Kenma’s shoulders. Maybe it’s less for balance and more because Kenma looks very flushed and soft and warm. He's _beautiful_.

Kenma looks up at Kuroo, their noses almost touching. He raises an eyebrow at him. Kuroo can only grin in response, and Kenma glances down at his lips before turning away. He’s possibly even pinker. 

Kuroo _really_ hopes this night never ends.

\-----

The room is still dim when Kuroo wakes, early morning sunlight filtering weakly into Kenma’s bedroom. He’s sprawled across the bed with Kenma nestled into his side, shoulders bare above the pile of blankets atop them.

Kuroo maneuvers himself out of the bed, standing up and tucking the blankets more firmly around Kenma. He leaves the room quietly, finding his clothes piled in the living room floor. 

Calcifer comes up and meows at him, pressing his face against his leg. Kuroo kneels down and scratches his ears. Then he rises and pulls on his shoes.

He walks out the door.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kenma pines, and Lev is an angel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! I'm back ! I'm sorry I left y'all hanging for so long ! Your feedback really means a lot to me and rereading your comments is what inspired me to finish this, so I hope you enjoy it ❤
> 
> Also, the original plan was for this to be the last chapter, but there will be at least one more !

Kenma’s head is pounding. He’d woken up late for work to an empty bed and a decently terrible hangover. 

To make matters worse, Lev is incredibly peppy today. Apparently last night he and the merch guy for Rolling Thunder had hit it off, and they’d even gotten breakfast together before going their separate ways. Awesome.

When Lev asks him how his night with Kuroo went, he brushes it off as best he can—it’s easy enough to distract Lev by asking him more about merch guy (Yaku is his name, which sounds oddly familiar to Kenma but he can’t place it).

The truth is though, Kenma doesn’t _know_ how his night with Kuroo had gone. He didn’t drink as much as Kuroo, true, but he was definitely drunk. Not to mention that everything had happened so suddenly—he’d probably have trouble remembering if he’d been completely sober.

He remembers the show and the trip home. He remembers watching a scary movie with Kuroo stretched across his lap. After that everything fades into a blur of sloppy kisses and cold hands pressed to flushed skin and drunken giggles.

And then he’d woken up alone, no new messages on his phone, and no hastily scribbled notes to be found in his apartment.

Kenma hefts another box of printer paper into the closet, and his head gives a painful throb. This is going to be a rough day.

\-----

It’s been two days since he and Kuroo have spoken.

Kenma doesn’t have work on Sundays, so he’s spent the day lounging on the couch playing Animal Crossing and dozing off every few hours. In all honesty, it’s probably childish for him to avoid the coffee shop because he knows Kuroo is working - he’d shown him his schedule before The Incident. 

Whatever. Kenma is okay with being childish. He just wishes he could keep his eyes open long enough to catch a bug for Truffles.

He has a surprising amount of money left after the gig and grocery shopping, so he orders a coffee maker on Amazon after falling asleep and losing another hour of potential bug-catching time. He’d rather drink his own shitty coffee than go to Kiyoko’s Corner and have to deal with seeing Kuroo.

Okay, maybe that’s a _little_ too childish, even for him. It’s not as if they’d had a big falling out—they’d just made the mistake of drunkenly hooking up. And Kuroo left without a word. And hasn’t texted Kenma in _two days_ (which doesn’t seem like a lot but it really, really is considering that they were texting nonstop before).

Kenma just wants to know why he’s being ignored. Had he gone too far, overstepped his boundaries and Kuroo was too drunk to say otherwise? That seems unlikely though, since he’d asked “Is this okay?” every step of the way and Kuroo had given his vehement approval. Maybe it was just bad sex, and Kuroo is too embarrassed to face him?

Also. Not likely.

Despite his best efforts, Kenma keeps pondering over Kuroo’s disappearance. He also keeps falling asleep and dropping his 3DS.

His coffeemaker can’t arrive soon enough.

\-----

Kenma wakes up on Monday morning with sweaty palms and a pit in his stomach, the lines of Kuroo’s tattoos dancing through his mind. He rolls over toward his nightstand to drain the bottle of water he opened last night and burrows back under his covers.

He only unfolds himself from his blankets to do a short analysis for his lit class, but the moment it submits he lets himself drift back to sleep. 

Maybe if he lays in bed all day Lev will think he’s sick. Maybe he can skate by without getting dragged around town and ‘making memories’. 

If only he were so lucky.

Lev starts blowing up his phone around 10, bombarding him with notifications. After a particularly aggressive bought of vibrations, sleeping is out of the question and Kenma is grumbling to himself as he reaches for his phone.

6 missed calls, 10 snapchats and 19 texts. Kenma rolls his eyes and begins scrolling through the messages.

_HAPPY B-DAY!!!!!! ☆*:.｡.o(≧▽≦)o.｡.:*☆ (o^▽^o)_  
_UR SO OLD!_  
_Ur officially an adult now, how does ut feel???_  
_it*_  
_I made plans for us to go eat w Yaku @ a nice lil restaurant_  
_He works there so u kno it’s gotta b nice !_  
_He gets a discount 2 so he said he’d buy_  
_He rlly wants to meet u !!!!!!!_  
_N we’re goin shopping n I’m gonna buy u some dope shit_  
_Kenma_  
_Rlly tho Kenma u know you have to come out w us_  
_Kenmaaaaa_  
_KENMAAAAAAAAA_  
_I’m calling u_  
_I’m calling u_  
_KEEENMAAAA o(TヘTo)_  
_I guess ur still asleep or ignoring me so I’m coming ovr_  
_I got coffeeee from ur fav plaaace_  
_Be there in 10_

By the time Kenma reads the last message his heart is pounding. It’s been seven minutes since Lev sent his most recent text. _Shit_.

Kenma catapults himself out of bed and starts scrabbling through the laundry on his floor, giving various articles of clothing the smell-test in hopes that something is clean enough to wear. His phone starts to ring just as he’s pulling on a pair of wrinkly sweats.

He rushes to the door, pulling it open to reveal Lev. His face is tucked into an ugly patterned scarf and he’s holding two pink coffee cups. 

“Kenmaaa! Happy Birthday!” he exclaims, his eyes crinkling over the folds of his scarf.

Kenma shuffles to the side to let him in, immediately snatching up the cup Lev holds out to him and peeking at its contents. It smells really good, and the hot steam warms the icy tip of Kenma’s nose. He sips at it cautiously and hums in contentment.

“The barista was nice enough to give me a recommendation. You like it?” Lev asks from his position sprawled entirely across Kenma’s couch. There’s something mischievous about the glint in his eyes and the arch of his brow. Kenma casts a suspicious glance his way before further investigating his coffee.

‘HAPPY BIRTHDAY’ is inked boldly onto the side of his cup, the handwriting so familiar yet so off-putting. There are tiny stars encircling the words, but no matter how hard Kenma looks he finds no apology. Oh well.

Kenma huffs a sigh and shuffles over to sit on a pillow adjacent to the couch.

“It’s great. Thank you, Lev,” he mumbles. 

With that Lev launches into excited conversation about his plans for their day and his budding romance with Yaku and the awesome gift that he knows Kenma is going to love. Kenma just settles in, a little bit of an ache in his chest, listening to his closest friend ramble about all the great things he’s planned for them to do together. Kenma closes his eyes and eventually finds comfort in Lev’s words.

\-----

Lev has been dragging Kenma around for an hour and a half now, and despite himself, Kenma is enjoying it.

Prior to leaving the apartment they’d gotten fantastically stoned, and the walk through the park Lev talked him into definitely benefited from it. Then Lev gave him a fistfull of quarters and set him loose in a small local arcade, content to simply cheer Kenma on or pat his back when he lost.

Now they’re meandering down the sidewalk, dry leaves crunching rhythmically beneath their feet, talking about a particularly exciting bought of Galaga that had landed Kenma with a high-score.

Lev suddenly veers away from the conversation and practically leaps into the arms of a man with a strangely familiar face. Despite their significant height difference, Lev doesn’t seem to cause any lasting damage and the pair of them approach Kenma with linked hands and flushed faces. The shorter dude sports a small, shy smile to accompany Lev’s much larger and dumber one.

So this must be Yaku. But why does he look so familiar? 

It’s not as if Kenma had been to the merch table at the Rolling Thunder concert. He’d spent the entirety of his time there sitting dumbfounded at his little round table, ogling Kuroo.

Just then, something catches Kenma’s eye and he actually takes in his surroundings for the first time in a while. 

They’re all standing directly before a small blue storefront, delicately adorned with strings of fairy lights. A sign above the door reads, “The Cat’s Cradle.”

It’s the same restaurant Kuroo had taken him to that first fateful Saturday. 

Lev introduces Kenma and Yaku, and all Kenma can muster is a slight nod.

“We’ve met,” Yaku states, and extends a hand to Kenma. Kenma frets over the sweat coating his palm, but Yaku simply gives his hand a firm shake and a brief, reassuring squeeze. Kenma looks up to find Yaku smiling at him kindly, Lev’s confused face hanging over his shoulder.

“Alright!” Yaku claps his hands and grins. “You’re legal now. Welcome to the world of day-drinking. Let’s go!”

Lev immediately protests, whining to Yaku about being underage. Kenma trails behind them, more excited about the prospect of a drink than he’s ever been.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yaku spits that truth, and Kuroo is really, really dumb.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it! The final chapter!  
> Thanks to all of you so much, without your feedback I never would have finished this.  
> Also, big big thanks to my beta yamamama for being the most supportive person on this earth ♡  
> I hope you enjoy !

Kuroo is miserable.

The day is dragging on, with just enough customers coming through to keep him from taking a break but not enough to keep him distracted. He folds his arms on the bar and slams his face down onto them. Mondays, man.

Well, not really.

Truth is, Kuroo isn’t doing too well. Because he’s an idiot.

Saturday morning he slunk home before the sun was fully risen, eyes trained on his feet. He doesn’t even really know why he left. 

It’s not as if he doesn’t like Kenma—because he really, really does, and he acknowledges that. It’s not even that the night didn’t go well, because it had been fantastic.

Something had just gotten under Kuroo’s skin. Here he was, with this beautiful, amazing person who he genuinely adored. This person with whom his relationship was so new, but which held so much promise.

Kuroo had found who he truly believed to be the most _incredible_ boy in this whole city.

And slept with him. Within two weeks of their meeting. While they were both drunk.

And then he _left_.

It was half instinct—Kuroo had quite a few notches in his belt, at least half of them one-night-stands. But there was also this feeling that he couldn’t ignore, the feeling that kept him from nestling right back up to Kenma and catching a couple more winks before they had to part ways.

What if Kenma thought this was his plan? What if Kenma thought all Kuroo wanted was a hookup?

What if Kenma didn’t want to find Kuroo in his bed in the morning?

It was likely an irrational thought, but a very persistent one. 

Their whole relationship had started pretty superficially—Kuroo simply hitting on Kenma because he was pretty, he seemed interesting, and it was fun. But things had really changed in the time they’d spent together.

Kenma was strange. He viewed the world in such a disconnected way, but he really did throw his whole heart into things. Maybe nobody could tell—maybe even Kenma couldn’t tell—but Kuroo could. 

Kuroo could see that glimmer in Kenma’s eyes sometimes. Occasionally it was during an especially hard level in a game, or when Calcifer would go nuts and race around in the apartment, maybe during some particularly candid conversations. He even saw that gleam when Kenma would slice boiled eggs for his ramen or roll joints.

He was precise, he was analytical, he was _invested_.

He was mesmerising.

Kuroo groans and thumps his head against the counter.

\---

It’s maybe ten fifteen when Kuroo sees a familiar face and his life flashes before his eyes.

Marching toward the counter with a nearly criminal amount of pep is Lev, Kenma’s frighteningly gangly friend who Kuroo met the other day at the show. He’s typing furiously on his phone, and it takes a ridiculous amount of time for him to actually meet Kuroo’s eyes.

“Oh! Hey Kuroo! I need one of your _special surprise_ coffees,” he says, accompanying the ‘special surprise’ bit with waggling fingers and a cheesy wink.

“Why don’t you just pick something off the menu?” Kuroo huffs, pulling a cup from beneath the counter and searching for his sharpie. It’s not as if he makes everyone’s drink selections, Lev can choose for himself. And where’s the damn sharpie? Kuroo ducks behind the counter to look under loose napkins and stacked lids. 

“Well I’m gonna if you’d let me finish! Gimme a large watermelon iced tea. The other drink is Kenma’s, so work your magic or whatever.” Lev sticks his phone in his back pocket, leans over the counter and fixes Kuroo with an expectant look. “Oh!” he says, popping back up on his side of the bar excitedly, “What did you get him for his birthday? I didn’t even think to ask if you wanted to come shopping with us, but I’m sure we could meet up somewhere! When do you get off?”

Kuroo spots the sharpie. He picks it up and rises unsteadily from behind the counter.

“Today?” Kuroo’s hands have gone clammy, and when he grabs a cup for Lev’s tea he nearly knocks the whole stack over.

“I mean, duh. What’s the fun in birthday shopping if it’s not on your birthday?” Lev asks confusedly. Kuroo might faint.

He fills out Lev’s cup in a daze, and the simple ‘happy birthday’ he writes on Kenma’s feels so inadequate he could pull his hair out. How could he be such an asshole to somebody right before their birthday. How could he be such an asshole in the first place?

He’s an _idiot_.

“Kuroo, come on, how much is it? I don’t wanna waste the day,” Lev pleads. Kuroo snaps back into reality, and he knows what he has to do. He plasters on a smile, and Lev physically takes a step back.

“It’s on me, don’t worry about it—I get off at eleven, where are you gonna be then?” He’s talking way too fast, and his nails bite into the wooden edge of the counter with how hard he’s gripping it.

“Uh, we’re going to The Cat’s Cradle around noon,” Lev says, confusion evident. Kuroo grins a little wider, a little less forced.

“Perfect! I might swing by but nothing is set in stone so there’s no use telling Kenma, I think Yamaguchi just finished your drinks, you can pick them up right over there, hope I see you later man have a good one, remember not to tell Kenma anything so he isn’t bummed out if I can’t come, bye!” 

The words stream out of Kuroo’s mouth like one continuous sentence, but Lev seems somewhat satisfied with them. He gives Kuroo a little wave and lopes over to the pick-up area.

Kuroo sighs, gathering himself for a moment before greeting the next customer in the fairly lengthy line that built up during Lev’s transaction.

Less than an hour. 

In less than an hour, he’s gonna try his damndest to fix this.

\-----

Kuroo is hunkered down in a booth at The Cat’s Cradle, and he’s gotta admit—it feels creepy.

He doesn’t know what he was thinking coming here. Why would Kenma want to talk to him after what he’d done? What was he even going to say? ‘ _Sorry I treated you like a one night stand and ignored you entirely, I have self-esteem issues_ ’?

Yeah, he’d gotten himself into a pretty sticky situation here.

After work he’d run home and changed into some nicer clothes. He even had a lengthy heart to heart with Bokuto about their respective tumultuous love lives.

Somewhere things went awry. He isn’t sure if it was the time he spent comforting Bokuto or pacing his floor in indecision, but he fucked up.

Because he managed to show up a full twenty minutes late. _Idiot_.

So now he’s trapped with a plate of noodles he’s too nervous to eat, sitting directly behind Kenma, Lev, and Yaku ( _of all the fucking people in the world_ ) with his hood up and his sunglasses on.

Like some kind of creep. Kuroo has become a creepy stalker.

If somebody notices him and calls the police, maybe he’ll find a nice prison boyfriend who he hasn’t already _ruined everything_ with. Small victories.

Kuroo sits there a long time, sweating and pushing the food around on his plate. He can’t help but listen in on the conversation at Kenma’s table, and at some point Lev announces his departure for the bathroom. Kuroo hunkers down and swirls the pasta before him as Lev walks by, miraculously going unnoticed.

“Kenma, what did that asshole do to you?”

Yaku’s voice makes Kuroo’s head snap up. Is he being talked about? It’s not as though he doesn’t deserve it, but geez.

“Nothing, really. I guess I just… thought there was something more there. More than there actually was.”

Kenma sounds so tired. It makes Kuroo’s chest hurt.

“Listen, Kenma, I know Kuroo. And if I’ve learned anything about him, it’s that he’s terrible with people.”

Kuroo smacks his head down onto the edge of the table. _Fucking Yaku_.

“He tries to play it cool all the time, but he has problems like everyone else. He makes it seem like he has all the confidence in the world, but doubts himself constantly. Probably more than is healthy.”

_Shit, he’s right. Why am I like this?_

“So basically, if he hurt you it’s probably because of some imagined wrong he’s done. But I’ve seen you together, and he definitely feels something for you. Judging by the heart eyes he was sporting during the show, it’s pretty serious. He’s a dumbass, but I’d give him another shot. Also, he’s sitting right behind you.”

Kuroo doesn’t know if he should be offended or flattered. Yaku stands up and walks over to his table.

“Go get him, tiger,” he says, complete with a slap on the back, and strides away. Kuroo is flabbergasted.

Kenma is silent where he sits. Kuroo stuffs his sunglasses in his pocket and pushes his hood off, rising shakily and walking over to stand awkwardly beside Kenma’s table.

“Hey,” Kuroo mutters, sitting down on the edge of the bench opposite Kenma. Kenma just looks at him, blushing furiously.

“Can we talk somewhere?” Kuroo can’t do this here. If he’s gonna bare his soul, it’ll be for Kenma alone.

Kenma nods, and Kuroo is quick to lead the two of them out of the restaurant. They walk into a nearby alleyway, and Kuroo takes a brief moment to pray that Kenma doesn’t think he’s gonna murder him. Hopefully the broad daylight makes it a little less freaky.

“I fucked up. I don’t know why I did it, but I did. I just thought…” Kuroo trails off, scuffing the toe of his shoe against the pavement.

When he chances a look up, Kenma is staring at him. He has that look in his eyes again, a glimmer of something otherworldly, and Kuroo feels his stomach swoop in a mixture of fear and fondness.

“What? What did you think?” Kenma averts his eyes. He’s speaking so quietly Kuroo can barely hear him. “Did it even mean anything to you?”

“Yes! Of course it did! I just thought you got the wrong idea,” Kuroo says, trying to keep his voice down and maybe failing miserably.

“I got the wrong idea?” Kenma directs his gaze back to Kuroo and it cuts like a knife. He looks hurt, and he looks downright pissed off. “You’re the one who left in the middle of the night like it was just some hook up! I thought you liked me— _actually_ liked me! If all you wanted was a drunken fuck you could have at least made it easy for me and not tried to be my friend first!”

That’s the loudest Kuroo’s ever heard Kenma speak, and he matches his volume.

“That’s not what I wanted, but I thought maybe you did!”

“Are you hearing yourself? Why would I want that?! You’re the one who snuck off instead of waiting and talking to me about it in the morning like a normal person!” Kenma takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, looking somewhere in the general direction of Kuroo’s feet. “Of course I wanted you to stay.”

Kuroo sighs. “I wanted to.”

Kenma fixes Kuroo with another analytical gaze. There’s a beat of silence. He rolls his eyes, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“You idiot,” Kenma chuckles.

He pushes himself off the wall he’s been leaning on, takes two steps to bridge the gap between them, and kisses Kuroo.

It’s forceful, almost painful, but Kuroo has never felt anything so sweet.

\-----

The afternoon passes blissfully slow. Lev and Yaku talk animatedly while Kuroo and Kenma trail behind them, hands linked.

Eventually Yaku gets tired, so he and Lev say their goodbyes and start the trek toward Yaku’s place. 

Kenma decides he wants to end his day in the best way possible, so he and Kuroo head back to his apartment to watch Kiki’s Delivery Service. They smoke a bowl out of Kenma’s new pipe, courtesy of Kuroo, and share lazy kisses from time to time. 

When the movie ends they stumble sleepily to the bedroom, utterly contented, and fall into bed still dressed for the day. There they lie in a tangle of sheets, Calcifer sleeping sprawled at their feet. Kenma eventually dozes off in Kuroo’s arms.

Kuroo presses a kiss to his forehead, knowing there will be many nights like this to come.

After all, he’ll be here in the morning.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic so be gentle with me. Comments and kudos are greatly appreciated !!


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